


King Of Brooklyn

by LonelyThursday



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Attempted Murder, Backstory, Canon Compliant, Canon Era, Dialogue Heavy, Established Relationship, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:54:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27154136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LonelyThursday/pseuds/LonelyThursday
Summary: Spot tells Race how he became the toughest kid in New York
Relationships: Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins
Comments: 3
Kudos: 28





	King Of Brooklyn

**Author's Note:**

> I think this has been in my drafts for over a year  
> At this point I've realized that it's never going to get any longer and I might as well post it as is, I'm sure someone will like it

“Back before I became King, there was a different King.” Spot starts his story hesitantly.

“Duh.” Race rolls his eyes; he already knows this. Even if he _hadn’t_ been a newsie back before Spot became the King of Brooklyn, it’s only logical that Spot hadn’t _always_ been King.

“Shh! Anyway, the king was named Knuckles, after the brass knuckles he had on him at all times. He ran Brooklyn different than I do.”

“Yeah I know, Blue forbid everyone from goin’ ta Brooklyn without good reason. And then when Jack took over, he said-”

“Quit interruptin’!” Spot cuts off Race’s rambling. “Knuckles believed in survival a the fittest, the tough prey on the weak, and therefore the tough survive. It weren’t uncommon fer kids ta beat each other ta death over minor inconveniences. It was a constant war zone. This is where I grew up. 

“When I’se a little, I had a best friend named Rusty, we was pretty good at keepin’ our heads down and scrapin’ by. The older boys ignored us, and we was able ta earn enough ta live, but not so much that we attracted attention. We didn’t make enough ta ever save up, but that was the safest way ta live when you was the weak. Rusty didn’t like livin’ the way we did, he always talked about leavin’ Brooklyn fer a safer borough, but I didn’t agree. I said that if we stayed in Brooklyn long enough, then we’d be the strong ones, and we’d be runnin’ things. I always knew I’d be King, but I always thought I’d run things the same way Knuckles did.”

“But ya don’t.” Race observes when Spot pauses his story. Spot gives him a weak smile.

“I know… one day Rusty was talkin’ too loud about leavin’, it rubbed some of the older boys the wrong way. They cornered me after sellin’ and told me that I was either wit’ them, or against them.”

“Spot…”

“I ain’t proud a what happened… what I _let_ happen…” Spot stares out at the river, but he’s not really seeing it. “I thought they was jus’ gonna beat ‘im a little, I didn’t think they would go as far as they did.”

“What happened?” Race has a sinking feeling in his gut that he _knows_ more or less what happened to Rusty.

“They soaked him, like I thought, but when they was done, they threw ‘im in the river… and I jus’ watched. Rusty couldn’t swim, I _knew_ that he couldn’t swim… I watched ‘im drown. No, I _let_ ‘im drown, and I’ve always regretted it.” Spot Conlon doesn’t cry, but he’s pretty close right now. “That day changed my mind, I didn’t believe in the survival of the fittest no more, but I was still sure about one thing.”

“You was gonna be King.” Race guesses. Spot nods once.

“And the only way ta do that was ta be the strongest. I had ta beat Knuckles, and then I had ta beat everyone who tried ta take the power from me, but once I did, I changed the way Brooklyn was run. Now, the strong protect the weak. It was a tough road, getting ta the top. There were a lot of fights I had ta win, and it took time for me ta be strong enough to win them all, but I got there, and that’s why I’se the most feared kid in New York.”

Race isn’t sure what to say when Spot finishes his story, so he says the first thing that comes to mind. “I’se sorry ‘bout yer friend.”

“It was my fault, if I’da realized how bad survival of the fittest was earlier, then maybe me and Rusty coulda left sooner, or maybe I’da stuck up fer him, but I didn’t...”

“It _wasn’t_ yer fault, it was the world ya lived in.” Race assures gently, kids die on the streets every day, especially in Brooklyn back then, but Spot’s changed things.

“I almost jumped in after him,” Spot’s voice is quiet, he’s not _really_ talking to Race anymore. “But the current was too fast, by the time I realized I might be able to save him, he was too far down river.”

Race is quiet for a minute. He’s not really sure what you’re supposed to do when your boyfriend tells you about how he watched his best friend get murdered.

“I once saw Jack save a kid from drowning.” That’s probably _not_ what you’re supposed to say. “Before Jack was the leader. That kid was soaked real good too…”

“It was common to dump the kids in the river after beatin’ ‘em ta death.” Spot answers shortly. 

“This kid weren’t dead, he’s one a us now, a ‘Hattan newsie.”

“That’s nice.” Now would obviously be a good time for Race to stop talking, but knowing when to stop talking is _not_ one of his talents. 

“Yeah, he’s my best friend! I’ve tried ta get him ta come to poker night, but he don’t want ta set foot in Brooklyn ever again, and I’se told him, I’se said ‘Albie, Brooklyn’s different now that Spot’s in charge!’ But he always says ‘aww Spot Conlon’s jus’ like the rest a ‘em.’”

“Yeah well he probably remembers me… the old me.” Spot looks regretful, there’s people out there who remember him for who he _was_ instead of who he _is._ Wait… “What did you say his name was?”

“Albie. Albert. DaSilva… Albert DaSilva.” Spot doesn’t _know_ an Albert, DaSilva or otherwise. He tells Race as much, but his boyfriend just shrugs. “Maybe he changed his name when he moved boroughs, folks _did_ try to kill him.”

“What newsie changes his name ta a _normal_ name?”

“Maybe it’s his actual name and he went by a nickname in Brooklyn, I don’t know! He don’t like talkin’ ‘bout Brooklyn.” Race had asked Albert a lot of questions after Jack fished him out of the river, but Albert had refused to answer, and Jack had told him to lay off. Even now, years later, Albert refused to answer questions about his past, and Race had long since quit asking. If Albert ever wanted him to know, he would tell him.

Spot nods, and they spend the rest of their date in silence.

**Author's Note:**

> It's my only Sprace fic that's actual Sprace and not Spralbert or Spralmer  
> I wouldn't expect any more if I were you, it's not my fav ship
> 
> Stay Safe   
> Wear a Mask  
> Don't be Stupid  
> VOTE!!!  
> Stay Home this Halloween, do as the Introverts do  
> As the Temperature goes down, there'll be more pressure to go to indoor gatherings, be Smart  
> I'm Proud of You


End file.
